He didn’t move at first, staring as he contemplated the request. Finally, he blew out a heavy breath and strode to her side. Kneeling on one knee next to her left hip, his other leg cocked up at her back, he pulled her hair back with one hand, his fist resting between her shoulder blades.
She said not a word but pushed up her sleeves near to her elbows and set to cleaning her hands thoroughly. She then leaned farther over. He anchored her, pressing the fist still holding her hair farther down her back. She splashed the cold water on her face, sucking in a breath at the refreshing chill. Cupping her hands, she drank from the clear-running stream.
Their long run had caused her to sweat, despite the cold. And while she knew what she did next would rouse the man at her back, that was precisely what she wanted.
Slowly, she pulled one sleeve off her shoulder, then the other. Scooping the cold water with her cupped hands, she splashed her neck and chest. A deep growl reverberated from the vampire behind her. The sound hummed up her spine and tingled along her skin till her nipples peaked under her gown. Instantly, electric warmth coiled low in her belly. Her breath quickening, she leaned forward and did it again, splashing even more water up and over her bare shoulders, over the top of her small breasts.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” his words grated like gravel over stone.
She brought another scoop of water to drink and to moisten her lips before twisting her head over her shoulder, meeting his dark, hungry gaze. She said not a word, her thoughts surely evident in her eyes as she flicked her tongue over her lips. Then she let her gown slip farther down one shoulder.
“I take that back.” His expression hardened, his voice husky and smooth. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Don’t you?”
“I told you last night. There’s something between us. I’m not going to pretend it’s not there. That would be a lie.”
“So you tempt me on purpose?”
“Yes,” she answered, unashamedly. “If I must.”
He pulled back on her hair gently, arching her neck and clenching his jaw as he leaned his head closer. “This is dangerous.”
Rather than cower or succumb to his stormy countenance and menacing voice, she read his true emotions beating a steady drum in the air—fear and potent, hard lust. Empowered by her own instinct, she turned and lifted up onto her knees, facing him, his hand still clutching her hair. She brought her wet forefinger to his parted lips. Tracing gently till he opened wider, she slipped her finger inside and glided the pad along his teeth till she found his protruding canines. Purposefully, she held his darkening gaze and pricked her finger on a sharpened fang. A drop of her blood pearled, but he’d not moved. She stroked the blood onto his tongue, the soft warmth pulling a moan from her throat. He sealed his lips at once around her finger and sucked deep.
The sensation of one drop of his elixir flowed through her body like welcome wildfire, licking flames in all the right places. Slowly, she slid her finger from between his lips. His breath was ragged, like hers, as she trailed her bloody fingertip along his lower lip, watching with heart-pounding fascination, till finally her eyes lifted to his.
Oh, God.
Fierce desire and hot need had never pounded against her this hard. He stared at her with such dark hunger, heat seared through her blood. Inching closer, their breaths mingled and eyes locked.
“Just a kiss, Captain.” The heat of him radiated onto her face, cheeks, lips, breasts, belly, like a raging inferno. Yes, his pulse pumped hard as his panting attested. And his desire whipped against her with lashes of aching intensity. “I want to feel it again. Now that I’m awake.”
She meant more than having her eyes opened from the bloodless sleep. She was awake like she’d never been before. Awake to her own heart’s desires. And to her body’s as well.
He gripped her hair harder, the only signal she had before he closed the inch between them. Their mouths met in a clash of teeth, fangs, and tongue, a desperate, clawing need. A kiss that could block out the world. Or begin whole new ones. Ones where a princess took what she desired, what she deserved, what she was destined to have. And to keep for all time.
She trailed her palms up his hard chest and along his flexing shoulders, settling one hand at his nape. The other she clenched in his hair as their mouths nipped and sucked. Her feminine moans mixed with his masculine ones, weaving them tighter together until he banded a strong arm around her waist and pulled her flush against his body, cradling her close, both of them on their knees, his apart.
He skimmed his mouth up her jaw and down her throat, licking a wet path, laving the drops of water beading on her skin. “You’re so sweet,” he murmured.
She laced both her hands in his short hair, pressing him closer, before letting them slide down his neck to his hard chest. His groaning growl told her he approved of her exploring touches, feather-light down his abdomen.
“Yes.” She whispered her approval when his lips and tongue suckled their way over the swell of her bosom.
She had no experience with men. None. Her first kiss was the blood kiss that had awakened her. She’d heard him in the dark of her prison tower. She’d felt his lips, his mouth, his tongue, his own blood reviving her to full wakefulness, bringing her back to the world with a passion she’d not forgotten since that moment.
And here she was taking more. So unlike her. So far from the staid, poised princess who’d spent her days reading, embroidering, playing piano, and singing music, dreaming of a time when she’d feel alive. Dreaming of this. Of a man like him.
“Mikhail,” she moaned as he scraped a canine along the mound of one breast, not breaking the skin but marking her pale flesh with his sharp fang.
He licked the line along her skin. “Mina,” he whispered.
She dropped her head back on a gasp of pleasure. Her name on his lips was pure heaven. He skated up her throat, his roughened voice driving her near mad.
“Mina.”
He’d let go of her hair and eased his hand to cup the back of her head. He lifted till she met his gaze, his lips hovering close to hers, not touching.
“Mina.” His voice had dropped so low, so deep, so dark, with such power, such force, as if he owned her. And in that moment, she knew no man would ever have the right to kiss her lips, to caress her skin, to touch her body. He’d claimed her with a word, with her own name.
His ethereal gaze burned into hers as he swept his lips over hers one last time, gentling his grip in her hair and around her waist, licking into her mouth with controlled tenderness. She could’ve floated in this place of pleasure forever, but the captain finally pulled away. Panting, he composed himself and lifted her to her feet.
With slow, precise movements, he righted her sleeves up over her shoulders and pressed his palms to the sides of her neck, his fingers tightening at her nape, his thumbs brushing her collarbone, and simply stared at her. It was a look of longing and loss at once, of pain and pleasure, of hope and despair. Something was wrong, more than she could decipher by sensing his emotions. She understood his sense of duty, but she couldn’t comprehend why it hurt so much to experience a moment’s pleasure.
“Mikhail?”
He shook his head. Taking another controlled breath, he dropped his arms and marched to the tree holding her cloak and his coat. On a heavy sigh, she followed, knowing the moment was gone. He’d already shielded himself behind his mantle of control when he wrapped her in her cloak, tying it at the neck.
He shouldered into his dark-brown leather coat, the tail brushing above his knees. All of the Bloodguard had similar coats in different shades of brown and black with hoods she’d only seen them wear the night they’d rescued her.
“Come. We’re almost to Silvane Forest. Once there, you’ll be safe.”
She nodded and followed him back to the others, wondering exactly who she’d be safe from. She knew he included himself among the dangers that threatened her. What he hadn’t quite come to understand was that for once in h
er life, she yearned for a taste of danger.
Chapter Eight
Mikhail had been rebuking himself ever since that moment by the brook where he’d lost his bloody mind. He’d only barely reeled himself in before tumbling her to the ground and hiking up her skirts.
His goal for this mission had been to save the princess and then to show her the path to claim her throne. With the support of the southern kingdom, she’d have strong, powerful allies and the best equestrian army in all the land to go up against Queen Morgrid and King Dominik’s vampire army. His goal had not been to attach himself to her in any way, shape, or form that was this intimate. Protect her, yes. Maul her by a stream, suckle her perfect breast, make her come on his fingers—an emphatic NO.
It was the blood kiss. Since he’d tasted her, he’d yearned for more. He wasn’t prepared for her reaction to him at the stream. The desire shining in those eyes. He should’ve had someone else awaken her. Dmitri, perhaps.
Fuck. He knew he wouldn’t have. The thought of his brother or any man’s mouth or hands on her lit an inferno of fury inside him. It made him even more eager to put quick distance between them and King Dominik’s guards. He’d not let that monster get ahold of her. He’d die before he let any harm come to her.
They walked down the last incline leading into the southern edge of the Silvane Forest. It wasn’t wise to move at vampire speed into hart-wolf territory. Even if they had allies, not all the hart wolves liked the fact that the Bloodguard had set up camp on the northeastern border by Hiddleston, near Sienna’s home. Before they’d left on their mission, he’d learned that the Fire Witch, as some were calling her now, had befriended the princess once before. Arabelle counted Mina as a friend as well, even though she had been betrothed to Marius at the time. Mikhail was glad to know she’d have friends among the Black Lily. It would put his mind at ease so that he could distance himself. The thought struck physical pain in his chest, and yet he knew he must do it.
He had to remain focused. The very reason the Bloodguard took a blood oath to forfeit marriage and family and any attachments to lovers was to maintain their lethal edge. A lack of focus could mean death—for his men, for the Black Lily, for civilians. For Mina.
“Will you tell me about your family?” she asked beside him, jarring him back to the present.
The other men walked ahead and behind, still guarding her from every side. No rogues would wander into Silvane Forest without meeting a quick death by the hart wolves, but they weren’t taking any chances.
Mikhail glanced her way. He didn’t want to let her in any more than she already was.
That was a lie.
He wanted to bare his soul to the woman. Therein lay danger.
“I am the son of a vampire gentleman and a human commoner. However, my father was especially loved by King Stephanus. So he honored my father’s request to make her vampire when they discovered she was with child—” he glanced at her for emphasis—“with me, of course. And while my father was a favorite of the King of Korinth, he made enemies of the monarchs at Glass Tower.”
He reined in the anger flaming up his chest.
“How did he make enemies?” she asked softly.
“My father had radical ideas. Though our estate is extremely small, we support a few faithful tenants to work the land. But my father disagreed with the overwhelming percentage of the tenants’ wages going to himself and the crown. So one day, he stopped paying the tithe to the Glass Tower, leaving his tenants with a much larger portion of earnings. Since his appeals to the Tower were consistently ignored, he began to ignore them.”
“I don’t imagine that went over well.”
He could feel her eyes on him, but he kept his own forward. “Not well at all, I’m afraid.”
“What happened?”
Flashes of memory. His mother’s cries. His father’s mutilated body.
“While we were all away, except my father tending to the estate, a band of rogue vampires with the blood madness showed up and murdered him.”
The princess gasped, remaining silent for a moment. Then finally, “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s done.”
“How can you be sure the rogues were sent by the Glass Tower?”
He looked down at her, remembering his father’s decapitated head alongside his crumpled body.
“Because after they assassinated him on the doorstep of our home, they wrote the word traitor in his own blood. It could only be the queen who saw him as such.”
She didn’t ask anything more. He wouldn’t elaborate that his father’s radical beliefs stemmed from an age-old wrong done to their bloodline. That this war between his family and the one sitting on the empirical throne was one that began long, long ago. Before he was ever born.
He needed to change the subject before his anger overwhelmed him.
“Arabelle told me you’d met the hart wolves that Sienna kept close to her the last time you were here.”
“I don’t know about meeting them, but yes, I saw them. There was one very gentle wolf, the white female Sienna called Duchess. Do you know the hart wolf even let her ride her? I remember when Kathleen—” She broke off suddenly, the joy in her voice leeching out as if she’d been struck.
Mikhail had been told of her lady-in-waiting’s fate. “I am sorry for your friend.”
She kept her head held high as they drew closer to the woods. “Thank you. It was cruel. She’d done nothing wrong. The queen had her killed to hurt me.”
“Yes. The queen thrives on bringing pain to others.” He cast away that thought, focusing on what was ahead. “The reason I bring up the hart wolves is because there’s something you don’t know. Didn’t know upon your last visit here. And we’ll likely be meeting some of them as we enter the forest.”
“Meeting?” she gave a curious laugh. “What do you mean?”
“The hart wolves aren’t simply wolves.”
“No. I never thought so. They’re big as bears and have a high intelligence. They also feel emotions on a very pure level.”
He slowed and glanced at her quizzically, then remembered. She’d told him she was an empath, right before she said she wasn’t ignoring her own emotions. He’d been stupefied by her declaration at the moment, having forgotten that she could sense the emotions of every person, every being. “That makes sense.” He said his thoughts aloud as he walked on more swiftly, and she stepped in line beside him.
“What makes sense?”
“You are so forthright and honest. Your own emotions are so obvious. That would make sense for an empath.”
She nodded, and they fell silent as they edged into the woods. A thin layer of snow covered the ground, some roots of the thick black oak trees jutting up here and there. No leaves clung to the branches now, where normally they’d be full of silvery leaves.
“I love these woods,” she whispered reverently.
“Interesting. Most vampires fear these woods. The magic here.”
“Not me. That is why I love them. I can feel the magic singing in the boughs. Can’t you?”
He followed her gaze upward, hearing and feeling nothing but a strange chill on the wind. “No. I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Really?” She smiled like a child beholding a wondrous gift. “It feels like…coming home.”
“Perhaps it’s because you’re an empath. You sense what others cannot.”
“Perhaps.”
Dmitri flashed from up ahead and stopped in front of Mikhail, the wind whooshing the air around them. “Dane, Allora, and some other clansmen await up ahead. They want to meet the princess.”
“Tell them we’re coming.”
Dmitri flashed away around the bend.
“Who are Dane and Allora?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. The hart wolves aren’t just wolves. They’re a clan—actually, there are four clans from what I’ve been told—of a people touched by the magic of the hartstone. They are guardians in wolf form.”
Mikhail recognized Allora first, wearing buckskin pants, a white tunic blouse, and a leather drawstring tie at her waist. Her white-blond hair fell in wispy waves to her thighs. The tips of her tribal tattoo flared with a wispy curl by her collarbone.
Mina slowed her gait but didn’t stop. He sensed no fear from her, only curiosity.
“Oh,” she finally said just as they stopped before Allora. Dane was on her right.
She seemed to realize what he’d been trying to tell her. A line of four clansmen Mikhail didn’t recognize stood on Allora’s left. However, their powerful presence was not to be overlooked nor were the golden torques around their necks, crowns denoting their status as kings of their clans.
With a dip of his head, Mikhail gestured to Mina and said, “May I present Vilhelmina Dragomir, Princess of Arkadia.”
Allora bowed, rather than curtsied, as both men and women bowed in greeting in their culture, Sienna had explained to him. “I am Allora Godric. Sienna once called me Duchess.”
Mina could barely leash the glee shining on her face. “I see.” She curtsied. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” She cast a wondrous glance up at Mikhail. She truly was a remarkable woman, finding such joy in the discovery that the hart wolves were shapeshifters, touched by magic. Most people would frown in confusion or cower in fear. Not Mina. She welcomed this strange news as she would a glorious gift.
“This is my brother, Dane Godric.”
Mikhail bowed his head and smiled as well at the mountainous man who equaled Gregoravich in size. But whereas Gregory looked dangerous, Dane had a fierce, wild edge that never left his hazel-gold gaze. His dark-brown hair hung long past his shoulders. He wore rough-hewn leather pants like the others. His tattoos wrapped down his arms beyond his sleeves to his wrists and cut up in harsher lines around his neck. Mikhail had seen his fighting in action back in King Dominik’s palace in Izeling when he and a war party of the Black Lily had come to save the day. Before their arrival that terrifying night, Mikhail wasn’t sure they’d all make it out alive. Unfortunately, the king had made his escape alive as well.
The Emerald Lily Page 7